


(only when he arrives) Heartbeat Spikes

by heyitsdestielmalec



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome Lydia, Banter, First Kiss, M/M, Rejection, awkward moments, bye bye scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsdestielmalec/pseuds/heyitsdestielmalec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is at Scott's. Derek arrives and Scott leaves. Enter history homework help, lemonade and cookies, and Lydia Martin being a goddess as usual. Sterek banter. Then comes what we're all really reading this for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(only when he arrives) Heartbeat Spikes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarAmongStones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarAmongStones/gifts).



> Happy birthday, StarAmongStones/kirayaykimura/Alex! First Teen Wolf fic, written for you. Enjoy, I guess? And tell me if it's any good- it was fun to write.

“Scott, do your homework.”

 

“Stiles, do your homework.”

 

“Scott-“

 

“Stiles-“

 

“We should really do our homework.”

 

“Yeah, Harris is gonna fail me soon.”

 

“We barely have any. It’ll take no time at all- OOF!” Stiles falls back onto Scott’s bed, controller knocked out of his hand. “Jesus fuck- oh, hey. Derek.” He wishes he had known that it was Derek originally, so that he could’ve enjoyed all _that_ on top of him. Scott pauses the game and looks over at the other werewolf. Stiles scowls. “I was winning, you know. Thanks for interrupting.”

 

“My pleasure,” Derek replies. “Scott- oh, your mother is calling you.” He jerks his head in the direction of Scott’s now buzzing phone. Scott scrambles across the room, grabbing it.

 

“Mom. Hi. Oh, shi-I mean, shoot. I’ll be there in a minute, love you.” He puts his phone in his pocket and slips on his sneakers, looking at the two apologetically. “Sorry, there’s a problem at the vet. I gotta go. You guys okay with staying here for a few minutes?”

 

Stiles shrugs. His dad’s at a Sheriff conference in LA, and so he’s staying at Scott’s and therefore has nowhere to be- which is great, because alone time with Derek McHottieWerewolf Hale is good. Derek nods too. “I just have to talk to you about something, but I can wait.” Stiles gulps, and both Scott and Derek look over at him, sensing his changing heartbeat.

 

“I’ll be back soon- sorry!” Scott leaps out the window Derek had just come inside from, and they hear a thud, leaves crunching, and fading, running footsteps. Derek takes off his jacket and stretches out on Scott’s bed. Stiles glares at him.

 

“I was about to do my homework there, asshole.” Derek blinks slowly and doesn’t say anything. Stiles mutters offensive things in other languages (he learned them from Erica, who had a much more diverse and impressive vocabulary than he had originally thought) at Derek, pulling stuff out of his backpack and glaring at Derek harder.

 

“You can come on the bed, you know,” Derek says, sounding amused. “It’s big. I don’t care.” To prove his point, he rolls over to face the wall. “I’m taking a nap.” Stiles bites his lip and then crawls on then bed slowly, trying to ignore Derek’s big, hot (in both ways!) body _right next to him._ The bed moves up and down with Derek’s breaths, and Stiles is a goner. He props his textbook up on the pillows and opens his notebook.

 

“I hate high school,” he mutters, scribbling bad answers in his packet. _Screw it_ is his current attitude.

 

“It ends eventually.” Derek’s voice comes from the other side, and Stiles sits up carefully.

 

“You went to high school?” There’s no answer, and Stiles supposes that that’s the end of the conversation. He finishes question 10 and goes on to the next section. “Know anything about history?” He’s not really expecting an answer- this is cryptic-words-Derek, after all- but as always, Derek is full of surprises.

 

“What time period?” Stiles blinks, surprised, and then looks at his textbook.

 

“Europe in the 1800s?”

 

“My specialty,” Derek says dryly. “Not really. What are your questions?” Stiles tries to calm his racing heart, which he knows Derek can hear (and is probably listening to).

 

“Um, what big things did Parliament pass during 1800-1810?”

 

“No idea,” Derek huffs, and then the bed shakes with his silent laughter. They go back to silence, which is just fine with Stiles. Not.

 

“How’s the Lydia Martin crusade going?” Stiles looks up from his book ten minutes later, alarmed.

 

“You know about that?”

 

“Stiles, I’m not blind, deaf, or oblivious. Everyone in the pack knows- except Jackson, maybe.” Stiles chews on his lip.

 

“Not well, I guess. She’s dating Jackson, that dick. Unworthy. They’re going strong, though. Both popular and everything.” Stiles sounds bitter to his own ears. Jesus, he’s a jealous idiot.

 

“Get over her,” Derek says, but not unkindly. “If she’s not interested in _you,”_ he stresses “you” for some reason- “then obviously she’s not worth your time.” Stiles looks at him, jaw hanging down.

 

“Lydia Martin, not worth _my time_?” He coughs. “She’s a fucking goddess, man. How do I get that?”

 

“You don’t, apparently,” Derek says, and this time his reply is not as kind. “You’re going to have to settle for someone else. Lesser.” Does Stiles detect bitterness in his voice, or is that his imagination? Has he taken his Adderall today? He thinks he hasn’t.

 

“I need my Adderall.” He slides out of the bed and runs down the stairs. “How dare Derek criticize and put down his choice of people? It’s not as if his first choice is available anyway. He fishes his bottle out of the cabinet and tosses back two pills, following it up with a glass of lemonade from the fridge. 

 

As a peace offering, he decides to take up lemonade and some of the chocolate chip cookies Melissa made last night. He lopes up the stairs to find Derek idly flipping through his cell phone. “ _Hey!”_ Stiles charges over, setting the lemonade and cookies on Scott’s desk on his way, and reaches for it. With werewolf reflexes too quick to see, Derek whips it away. “Gimme my phone!” Stiles makes another wild grab for it, diving over Derek and reaching down. But even as he moves, he looks up and sees it flying through the air above him.

 

“Too slow,” Derek taunts quietly. Desperately, Stiles smacks his chest in retaliation. He feels rock hard abs (as expected) and then Derek stilling below him. The phone falls down onto the bed, unnoticed. But Stiles is still on top of Derek, feeling his warm breath on his chin and the rise and fall of his warm chest. Then suddenly, he’s not, and Derek is by the desk calmly eating a cookie. The only thing that gives what happened ten seconds ago evidence are his shaking fingers.

 

“Sorry,” Stiles says shakily, getting off the bed and taking a long sip of his lemonade.

 

“It’s fine.” Derek’s brusque tone closes further conversation, and Stiles keeps his mouth shut. After they’re done eating (silently) they go back to the bed (silently) Derek turns over (silently) and Stiles begins working again (silently). Derek moves and rustles on the bed, and Stiles wonders if he’s really asleep. Whatever. He doesn’t care about the stupid sourwolf anyway. Not his stupid eyebrows or stupid lips or stupid eyes or stupidly amazing body or stupid terrible but endearing personality. Not at all.

 

“Your heartbeat spiked just then. Why?” Derek doesn’t turn over, but his feet twitch around restlessly. Stiles swallows, shutting his textbook and lying down next to Derek, facing his back.

 

“No reason.” Derek huffs.

 

“I know that’s a lie. What I want to know is why it’s spiking. It’s been doing that since… since I got here.” Derek’s voice drops off, and Stiles shuts his eyes, cheeks flooding with color.

 

“Yeah.” In one swift motion, Derek turns over, and Stiles tenses up as his brown eyes meet Derek’s- Stiles doesn’t even know how to define them, there are so many different colors.

 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you-“ Stiles leans up and presses his lips to Derek, so hoping he’s reading this right. When their lips meet, he feels electricity jump, no corny joke. Derek stays there for a second and then takes himself away, turning around. Stiles stays in the same position and then his mind processes what just happened. _I just kissed Derek Hale. He turned away. He didn’t kiss me back. I am such a fucking idiot._ He jumps up off the bed, fingers messing with the buttons on his shirt and hands shaking like there’s an earthquake. _Jesus Christ. I just kissed Derek fucking Hale. And he didn’t kiss me back he turned away oh my God I’m going to die what about Scott what about the pack shit I have to move I have to go I can’t stay here I need to go home I need to go somewhere I need-_ “Stiles-“

 

“Shut up, Derek. Please don’t say anything and please pretend that didn’t just happen. It was a mistake, okay? We humans make them sometimes,” he snaps, zipping up his jack and sliding on shoes. “I’m going to go. Scott will be back soon so that you can talk, and- don’t tell him anything, okay? He’s my best friend, not yours, and I just need to-“

 

“Stiles.” Stiles leaves, and in doing so he doesn’t see Derek scrunch his eyes shut and mouth curse words into the pillow. Stiles goes outside and into the McCall’s garage, stealing Scott’s old bike and riding it down the street. He tries to forget what just happened, mind blurring the event and tamping it down. Where is he going? _Lydia._ He knows the route to her house- he memorized her address by heart when he was 12- and parks Scott’s bike neatly on her front yard. He knows she’s home because he can see her in the kitchen through the front window.

 

“Stiles Stilinski.” Lydia’s voice comes from the now open front door. “What are you doing here now?” He walks over and leans against her door.

 

“I just kissed Derek,” he sighs, and her eyes widen. She pushes him inside and to the living room couch, sitting him down and then perching on the coffee table.

 

“Details, please.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

 

“I’m staying at Scott’s, because my dad’s at that conference,” he begins. “So we’re there playing video games-“ her lip curls in distaste- “and homework. Derek comes in through the window, and then Scott has to go because of some vet emergency. I have nowhere to be, and Derek decides to stay. Then we’re alone.” He swallows. “We’re both on the bed- at his indication- me on one side, doing homework for history, and him facing the wall on the other side. We start talking about history a little bit, and high school and then-“ he pauses, and Lydia narrows her eyes at him.

 

“What is it? Stiles Stilinski, don’t you dare withhold information that I can find out.”

 

“You can’t, not even you’re that good,” Stiles protests weakly, and then his shoulders slump. “We talked a little about you. He said it wasn’t possible for me to- you know, get you as a girlfriend-“ Lydia snorts, “and said I’d have to settle for someone else, lesser. He sounded a little bitter, I don’t know. Then I went to take my Adderall and brought up cookies and lemonade as a peace offering, I guess. He was looking through my texts- as if I’d keep anything on there, since you hack into it at least a few times a week-“

 

“I have to make sure I know everything that’s going on,” says Lydia reasonably. “I do it to everyone else too.”

 

“And I’m basically fighting for my life here,” Stiles continues. “He’s so fucking strong and fast, like how am I supposed to do anything? Anyway, so it ends up with me _right on top of him,_ and then he’s used his werewolfy powers and is ten feet away, eating a cookie.” He wishes he had one right now, and his stomach grumbles. Lydia rolls her eyes and flips her hair impatiently. “We’re silent for a few minutes, and then he asks why my heartbeat’s been spiking since he got there. Obviously, even he’s not that oblivious. He turns to face me, and I kiss him. Barely. It was like a peck!” Lydia tsks, but doesn’t say anything. Yet. “It was electric, not even joking. Like what Scott must feel when he kisses Allison. And then Derek turns away. Like, doesn’t even say anything. I get up and start putting on a jacket and shoes, and then he says my name. I snap at him- oops, now he’s probably mad and out to get me- and then he says my name again. And then I leave.” He finishes plaintively. Lydia fishes a chocolate out of her dress pocket and hands it to him, sitting on the couch with him.

 

“I’m sorry, Stiles. There are a few things I can do for you here. The first option is pulling you out the fake passport, birth certificate, ID, and other stuff I’ve made for you and the rest of the pack. They’re for emergencies. I can buy you a plane ticket to the East Coast with frequent flier miles, and tell everyone else you left and went to college early.” Stiles nods approvingly. “The second option is watching the Notebook with you and getting popcorn and letting you kiss me a few times, to make up for Derek.” His eyes widen. Being offered to kiss Lydia Martin- oh, maybe six months ago- would have been the best thing to ever happen to him. Now? Not so much. “The third option is I march over there and use my special do-the-fuck-what-I-say voice to get Derek to apologize or something. The fourth option- well, that’s you going back there and pretending like nothing happened.” Her voice is kind. Stiles doesn’t want to do the fourth option.

 

“So, where were those passports?” he jokes, and Lydia wraps her arms around him.

 

“Sweetie, I’m sorry. You should go. You’re going to smell like me anyway, and you know he can tell.” Stiles huffs.

 

“Stupid werewolves. Jesus, sometimes it sucks being the only human. Banshee does not count, sorry. You can do something. I’m… useless.”

 

“No, you’re not. Scott needs you. I need you. _Derek_ needs you. We all do. Now get your ass over to Scott’s and talk, okay?” She kisses him lightly on the cheek and then pushes him up. “Bye, Stiles.”

 

“Bye, Lyds,” he says, and leaves. He mounts his bike with trepidation, and then pedals his way back to the McCalls’. He opens the door quietly and then hears the scrape of a chair in Scott’s room. _Derek._ Scott’s obviously not home yet, so Stiles has some time.

 

“Stiles.” Derek is suddenly in front of him, and belatedly a rush of Derek-scented ( _wonderfully_ scented) air rushes past Stiles. “So, um.”

 

“Um what?” Stiles says faux-casually, and opens the pantry. He finds a box of marshmallows and pops one in his mouth. Derek rolls his eyes and scratches his chin, looking amused and annoyed at the same time. It must be a Derek thing.

 

“We should talk about it,” he says gently, and Stiles feels something blocking his throat. It constricts, and he breathes heavily for a moment.

 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, tossing the marshmallow bag to Derek and folding his arms. “I kissed you. It was an accident, a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. Can we _please_ forget about it?” Derek chews and swallows his marshmallow thoughtfully, and then shakes his head.

 

“No, we can’t just forget about it. It happened.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, pissed off at this piece of (hot) work.

 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me spit it out? Okay, fine. I _like_ you, Derek. If we want to go back to fourth grade, I _like like_ you. And I know it’s never going to happen, because you’re, like, 23 and I’m seventeen, and you’re hot and I’m awkward, and you’re a fucking werewolf and I’m a useless human-“

 

“You’re not useless,” Derek mutters, jaw muscles working. Stiles looks at him, eyes widening.

 

“Seriously? That’s what you pick up out of that whole thing? Okay, whatever. Just ignore me, please.”

 

“You’re such an idiot,” Derek says quietly, and then his fingers are cradling Stiles’ chin, and his hand is on Stiles’ lower back, and their lips are touching, and it’s everything that Stiles wanted their first kiss to be and not awkward tasting like marshmallows and _perfect._ Stiles’ arms slide around Derek’s neck, and they continue gently exploring each other through light kisses until Stiles is so light headed he needs air, like, _yesterday._

 

“Hey, sorry- uh, what’s going on?” Scott’s voice filters in through their little bubble, sounding alarmed. Stiles breaks apart from Derek immediately.

 

“Right. Scotty, hi. This is Derek, my new boyfriend.” He feels Derek stiffen beside him, and then an arm slide around his waist. Scott looks at him, wide eyed, and then nods slowly.

 

“Oh-okay. There are gonna be some rules here. First one is no making out in my house. Second is no making out at pack meetings. Third is not doing it in front of me- really?” Derek’s lips are on Stiles’ again, and this time it’s much more aggressive. Scott sighs audibly. Stiles is very into this. Having a hot werewolf as a boyfriend with unnatural stamina is going to be _great._ “Guys, come on. You’re breaking two rules right _now.”_


End file.
